Not Without My Daughter
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BETWEEN ETHIOPIA AND JERUSALEM Appendices: A Selection of My Reports in Yediot Aharonot Appendix 4: Not Without My Daughter By Adeno Dan Adebe, November 2020 Appendix 4: Not Without My Daughter1 “For twenty years, I have been asking all the relevant authorities to help me find my daughter. Who haven’t I met? I met the Ethiopians who operated in Sudan on Mossad’s behalf, and they promised to help. I went to the Absorp- tion Ministry, I went to the Jewish Agency, I spoke with the Defense Ministry. Nobody listened to me. Later, I even met representatives of the Ethiopian government and asked them to help me. Everyone told me that she had died. I persisted. I told them that I knew she was alive. She was married to a Sudanese man, and I had proof. I heard from people who had seen her in Sudan with her husband in recent years. Nothing helped. Nobody believed me. Then I decided I had no choice, and I had to take this task into my own hands. I packed a suitcase and all my savings and went to the Ethiopian-Sudanese border. I told everyone, I’m not going back to Israel without my daughter.” Tekela Samu, 70, a resident of Ashkelon, made aliyah in Operation Moses. He is visibly moved as he recalls his journey back to the inferno of Sudan two years ago. “It was clear to me that if I didn’t bring my daughter by myself, nobody would bring her to Israel. I was so desperate to see her. She is my eldest daughter. One way or another, he reached the border with Sudan, lived in a rickety shack and started mapping out the links between all the local smugglers and criminals to find his long-lost daughter. “I made the same journey on foot more than twenty years ago, and I never wanted to go back to that terrible place. I hired smugglers who smuggle people from Sudan to Ethiopia and vice versa. I told them about my daughter and where I was told she had been sighted. They told me it would take them at least a month to get back to me with an answer. I told them, ‘Guys, take five months if you need it. I don’t care. I’m waiting for you here and I’m not budging. I want my daughter back.’ About a month and a half later, they came back with their first piece of information.” Around 4,000 Ethiopian Jews, who left Ethiopia for Sudan twenty years ago on their way to Israel, did not make it to kiss the soil of the Land of Israel. They died on the exhausting trek, mostly while waiting to be rescued from the refugee camps and the famine, disease, and violence from other refugees, Sudanese soldiers, and slave traders. Hundreds of Jews, especially women, disappeared on that tragic trek, and as far as their families are concerned, they are still missing persons. Recently, the community has finally despaired of the Israeli establishment’s impo- tence and many have started embarking on private and extremely dangerous journeys to try to track down their long-lost loved ones. Tekela Samu is just one of them. The connection between Jewish communities in the West and the Land of Israel and Ethiopian Jewry was forged in the late nineteenth century, but it remained flimsy until after the establishment of the State of Israel, mostly as a results of the rabbinic establishment’s refusal to recognize the Jewishness of the Beta Israel community. The ruling by the Sephardic Chief Rabbi, Ovadia Yosef, in 1973 that they were indeed Jewish catalyzed the beginning of their movement to Israel. In 1977, after Menachem Begin came to power, he convened a special meeting with the director of Mossad, Yitzhak Hofi, and other representatives from the security establishment. According to the Mossad official Gad Shimron, who wrote a book about the aliyah of Ethiopian Jewry, Begin told Hofi: “We know that thousands of Falashas, Ethiopian Jews, are desperate to come to Israel. They are suffering from famine, the authori- ties are persecuting them, their neighbors are abusing them. I am asking you to activate Mossad to find ways of bringing these beloved Jews to Israel. Bring me the Jews of Ethiopia.” Mossad officials were not thrilled and tried to explain to Begin that such an operation was impossible because of the terrain and political situation in Ethiopia. Begin put his foot down. Bitzur, the Mossad unit responsible for Jewish communities in hostile lands, started exploring its options. At the same time, the Mengistu regime in Ethio- pia started facing domestic uprisings. Mengistu appealed to Israel for help. David Kimchi, the head of Tevel (Mossad’s foreign relations unit) and deputy director of Mossad, flew to Addis Ababa for an urgent meeting with him. Mengistu wanted the Israeli Air Force to conduct bombing sorties against the Eritrean rebels. Kimchi told him to forget about it, but Israel was willing to provide arms in exchange for Jews. Every Hercules aircraft that flew into Addis Ababa’s airport to offload equipment would only fly back with Jews. Mengistu agreed, and the operation was given a green light. This maneuver was pulled off twice, till Foreign Minister Moshe Dayan exposed this secret relationship at an impro- vised press conference in Geneva in February 1978. It is still unclear why Dayan said what he said: was it a slip of the tongue or a deliberate attempt to sabotage these ties, which Dayan opposed establishing? In any case, Mengistu, who was inescapably dependent on aid from East Germany and the Soviet Union, could not put up with the public revelation and abruptly severed ties with Israel. 1 Co-written with Ronen Bergman, “7 Days,” 26 December 2003 [Hebrew]. 1 The direct route, therefore, was blocked. Then the Sudanese option came up. D., the Mossad agent who was in charge of the Ethiopian file: “We ruled out any possibility of a clandestine extraction operation from Ethiopia itself. The country was in the middle of a civil war. The secret police was on full alert, even in districts far from the capital. There was no way of making whole villages disappear without getting found out.” In most cases, Mossad’s attempts to extricate the Jews via other countries, such as Djibouti and Kenya, came to naught. D: “As far as we were concerned, the Jews could blend into the massive influx of refugees pouring into Sudan, and there it would be easier to deal with them because of the chaos. The security forces there weren’t really in control.” The Jews heeded the call and started walking, first as individuals, and then in their dozens, hundreds, and thou- sands. The emissaries from Israel and Sudan were welcomed with interest and trust in the villages of the Tigray and Gondar regions, where the Jews lived. A growing groundswell of Jews started selling their meager property to non-Jews and departing in the middle of the night for the Sudanese border. They were taken there, for payment, by local people smugglers. Under Ethiopian law, this was a serious crime, potentially punishable by death. Menachem Begin, and later various official and semi-official spokespeople, described the operation as the heroic rescue of Ethiopian Jewry, which had been suffering from famine and extreme want alongside antisemitic abuse from their Christian and Muslim neighbors. This version of events is inaccurate. During the aliyah from Ethiopia, two regions of Ethiopia were in the grips of an acute drought, but they were not the areas where the Jews lived. As for antisemitism, it had existed in Ethiopia more or less in the same format since the Middle Ages and had not suddenly taken a turn for the worse. Besides the Jews, 750,000 other refugees converged on Sudan at the time. Back then, Sudan was considered an island of peace and relative stability in a region brimming with civil wars. Most of the refugees came from Ethiopia, although not from the regions where the Jews lived. Those who have visited or lived in these refugee camps describe them as hell on earth. The Red Cross was overwhelmed by the colossal mortality rate and prevalence of disease, owing to a shortage of trained staff. Consignments of food and medicine, coming from all over the world, rarely reached the truly needy. At night, the camps became even more terrifying. The white people used to pack up and sleep elsewhere, somewhere safe. Criminal gangs ruled by force of arms and battled for turf and the drugs and prostitution business. The Jews assembled in Sudan in three main camps: Wad Sharifat in northern Sudan near the town of Kassala, Wadihilu in the central border area, and Um Raquba near the town of Al Qadarif. In each of the camps, they had to carefully hide their Jewish identity. Dr. Gadi Ben-Ezer, a clinical psychologist, researched Ethiopian Jews’ stories about the trek through Sudan for his doctorate. Based on these testimonies, he published the book Like a Light in the Urn, which addresses the trauma of the Ethiopian migration through Sudan. “We used to say that we were gentiles from Ethiopia so they wouldn’t kill us,” says Y., a young woman. “They used to bring us their food, and we couldn’t eat. They used to bring us cooked chicken, and you’re dying to eat, but that’s not your way [i.e. it was not kosher]. We didn’t eat. I remember every time they brought food, we used to take it and throw it into the toilet, because on the one hand, the food wasn’t kosher, and on the other—the gentiles would have checked whether or not we had eaten it.